


The Lone Twin

by Not__Misha__Collins



Series: After the War [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Gen, Ghost Fred Weasley, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Survivor Guilt, Twins, george centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not__Misha__Collins/pseuds/Not__Misha__Collins
Summary: The loss of Fred doesn't fully hit George until six months later. Then, it hits like a brick wall.





	1. Chapter 1

The chill of the late October wind continued to blow in through the door of the shop.

“Close the damn door, will you?” George, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, snapped.

“Sorry,” Ron let the door swing shut.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?” the twin asked, “It’s cold out.”

“It’s not THAT cold, Mum,” Ron mocked.

His younger brother seemed to be quite annoyed with him lately.

“Get to work,” George said, “I’ll be upstairs.”

“Yeah,” Ron mumbled.

 

The store was filled with calm, cheery music. Lee, the twin’s friend, was staying with his father for a while. George understood the need to be with family right now, and had Ron and friends working the floor. He hoped Hermione would be here soon, as she was great with money handling, and a great saleswoman to boot.

 

George headed up the steps where two rooms were located.

“Fred,” he whispered.

He hadn’t been able to enter that room, the first one on the left, since he returned.

“I’m sorry,” the twin shivered, feeling the late October cold again. How long had Ron left the door open?

George continued to his room, a copy of Fred’s; twin size bed, small sofa, fireplace, and a bathroom. Oh, and a mirror, a nice round one near the door. A mirror he preferred to avoid. It caught his eye this time, and his reflection glowered back at him.

“Fred,” he said again, his reflection having echoed him.

He stared at the glass like his reflection would move. Of course not, you idiot! Then…blood. The reflection showed blood dripping from his nose. George panicked and held his hand against his nose, horrified when the reflection didn’t echo him.

“I’ve gone mad,” he stated, the mirror image completely still.

His reflection appeared to smirk at him. It was all too much. George removed his hand from his face, surprised that his nose was really bleeding, and curled his fist to hit the mirror. Whether it was in his head or not, the mirror lay broken on the ground, and he could taste blood from his nose.

“George,” someone called from downstairs. Was it Hermione? He couldn’t hear.

He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and crammed it against his nose.

“George,” Definitely Hermione.

She knocked on the door and George was glad that, unlike Ron, she respected privacy.

“Just a second,” George called.

He opened the door with his free hand and there stood Hermione. **She has the most wonderful smile** , he thought, then dismissed the thought. At one point, he’d thought Ron had a thing for her, up until the day he and Fred saw Harry and Ron kissing. She was so supportive of Harry and Ron’s relationship, such a great friend to his little brother, to Ginny, too.

“What happened?” her smile turned to concern.

“Bloody nose,” he shrugged, “No big deal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Did you want something?”

“The key to the storage room.”

“Did Ron lose his again?”

Hermione nodded, “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” George smirked, “Ron can’t summon the key?”

George pulled a key from his pocket.

“Did you…?”

“Charm the key so that Ron couldn’t summon it? Perhaps.”

Hermione sighed but the edges of her mouth crept upward.

“Tell Ron I’m not made of keys,” George said.

“Yeah,” she took another look at his nose before leaving.

…

Percy didn’t look at George when he entered the Burrow. He’d been the last one Fred had spoken to, the one to see the life leave the other twin’s eyes. They’d barely spoken since the funeral, despite being in the same house together. George figured his older brother was still ashamed of leaving.

“Percy, where’s Mum?” he asked.

Percy was using his wand to clean the dishes.

“Dunno.”

“You’ll have to talk to me at some point,” George said.

“Hmm.”

“At least LOOK at me,” George said.

Percy lowered his wand and turned to face George.

“I think she went shopping with Dad,” Percy said, then turned back to the dishes.

George sighed, “You have to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“Ignoring me,” the twin spoke.

“I’m not ignoring you,” Percy replied.

“You’ve been getting on well with everyone else,” George explained, “But the moment I enter the room, you go silent.”

“You really don’t know?” Percy scoffed.

“Oh, I do. I just want to hear you say it.”

“I left,” Percy said, “I abandoned all of you, came back at the last damn second, and…everyone acts like nothing happened.”

“Would you like us to act colder toward you?”

Percy sighed, “I…I thought what I was doing was…I wanted to be successful, to have a better life, for me…for all of us…”

“By pretending like you weren’t one of us?”

The older brother shook his head.

“I’m not proud of it,” he said, “I barely got to see him before…”

“Mum still sent you letters,” George said, “And she cried when you sent back the sweater she made.”

“That was stupid of me,” Percy admitted, “I kept the letters in a little box.”

Percy sniffled and wiped his eyes angrily. He rarely ever cried.

“How can I look at you?” he asked, “How can I face the fact that I stood and watched as my younger brother was killed?”

“Perce…”

“Don’t,” Percy interrupted, “I can’t possibly ever make it up to you, to the family…”

Percy seemed caught off guard when George grabbed him into a hug.


	2. Draco's Visit

Molly and Arthur insisted that George stay at the Burrow at night, so he didn’t have to sleep alone. He was glad for this, to see Charlie, Ron, Ginny, Percy, and his parents, and sometimes Bill and Fluer to keep him company. The store felt so empty without Fred.

“George, dear,” his mother addressed him, a letter in her hand, “We’ve got a letter from Draco.”

The rest of the Weasleys had been told about Draco, about the broken shell of a young man he’d become, how he and his mother left, how his father abused him. Molly and Arthur were furious with Lucius, how someone could abuse a child like that, how Arthur had always suspected Lucius to be a controlling and vindictive, angry man. Bill and Charlie alike were reluctant to believe Draco had changed but trusted the stories of Harry and friends. Percy was upset that someone got away with using to cruciatus curse so many times, not to mention years of child abuse that went unnoticed by such a powerful person. Ginny, of course, felt sorry for Draco, but found it hard to forgive a death eater. The Weasleys and Harry kept in contact with Draco, and even Hermione got a letter from him.

“What does it say?” George asked, then grabbed the letter.

**Dear Weasleys,**

**Thank you for the dreamless sleep potion, George. The nightmares are gone, mostly. My seizures don’t seem to be stopping, however, I am beginning to get over my addictions. Onto the point of this letter, my mom is going to allow me to visit your home. If you’ll allow it, of course.**

**Regards, Draco**

“He wants to visit us,” George said.

“Of course he can visit,” Molly said.

“Really?” George raised an eyebrow.

“You said yourself that he’s changed,” she explained, “That he tried to burn the mark off his skin…”

“I’ll write him.”

…

**Draco,**

**We’ve agreed that you can visit. Come to my shop next week, if you’re not busy.**

**George**

…

Draco showed up on a Wednesday, the twenty-eighth, according to George’s calendar. The blonde hesitantly entered the store. His hair was much longer than it had been, but the bags under his eyes had disappeared.

“Draco!” George announced, “Thought you weren’t going to show up.”

“Hello, George,” Draco said, “You’re opened early.”

“Not opened, actually,” George answered, “Shops are closing next week. Observance, or whatever. Thought I’d start early.”

“Observance?”

 “The end of the War. It’s been six months, Draco.”

“Oh. Feels like ages.”

“For you, maybe,” George remarked, “Ready to go?”

Draco nodded.

…

If George thought Draco was awkward at the store, it was tenfold when they’d reached the Burrow. The blonde entered the house very apprehensively, but he didn’t look disgusted. He looked afraid.

“Hello, Draco,” Molly greeted.

“H…Hello,” Draco shook her hand with the arm that didn’t bare the mark.

“Arthur is at work,” she explained, “And everyone else is asleep. Have you had breakfast?”

“Before I left.”

“All right, then,” she said, “George, will you show Draco around?”

“Yeah,” George said, “Come on. We’ll go see the garden first.”

 

Once in the garden, George figured they were out of earshot of the rest of the family.

“Are you all right?” George asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

The blonde sighed.

“You won’t laugh?” he asked.

“No guarantees.”

“I’ve become afraid of magic, of…of wands,” Draco explained, “It’s like…I can still feel the pain of…being cursed. And, a house full of wizards, wizards who…despised me…”

“You think we’d do that to you?”

“No. It…It doesn’t make any sense, I know that. But, I can’t just…turn it off.”

“When you were in Harry’s house?”

“I was mortified,” Draco said, “I thought…he’d kill me.”

“Harry doesn’t…generally…kill people.”

Draco snickered.

“When I was…cursed,” the blonde explained, “It felt like it went on for hours. The longest was three hours. I begged him to just kill me, and of course, he just laughed. I was completely blind for a few minutes and my ears were ringing.”

Draco’s treatment at the hands of his former ‘boss’ greatly upset George.

“Charlie is usually the first to wake up,” George said, “Well, besides Percy. Ron’s with Harry and Ginny usually sleeps in. Wanna go back inside?”

“Yeah,” Draco answered and followed George back into the house.

“Ah, Charlie’s awake,” George spotted his older brother stuffing toast into his mouth.

“Morning, George,” Charlie greeted, “Ello, Draco.”

Draco nodded politely, then sat down on the couch.

 

Before long, everyone in the house had woken up, and became very interested in speaking to the new guest. George seemed to be the only one who noticed how Draco’s nails dug into the couch as he answered questions.

“Draco, would you like to stay for lunch?” Molly asked.

“Sure,” the blonde smiled.

As Percy and Ginny went to the kitchen to help prepare lunch, George and Charlie were left with Draco.

“I told them not to bombard you with questions,” George said, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Draco, I need to borrow George for a second,” Charlie pulled George off the couch and up the stairs.

“What?” George asked.

“So, this is your ‘blonde problem’?” Charlie asked.

“No,” George said, “I wouldn’t do that to Fred.”

“Fred would give him a second chance.”

“A second chance does NOT mean dating him,” George whispered, “It would be an affront to everything we’ve been through.”

“And what about your brunette problem?”

“What brunette problem?”

“Don’t be dumb,” Charlie said, “Your eyes pop out of your skull every time you look at…”

“All right, fine,” George interrupted, “You…haven’t told anyone?”

“Of course not,” Charlie replied, “But, you’d better sort this out.”

…

How could George defile the memory of his brother by developing a stupid crush on a former death eater? THEY were the reason Fred was gone, the reason George was missing an ear, and the reason Bill gained werewolf traits. So why, now, does he feel this way about Draco?

…

Draco left after lunch, having said goodbye to the Weasley’s and thanking them. George immediately penned a letter to Hermione.

**Hermione,**

**We need to talk immediately. Please meet me at the shop.**

**George**


	3. The Other Twin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for suicide attempt

“George?” Hermione asked as she entered the shop the next day.

“Hermione,” George greeted, “I, uh, probably should have told you we’d be alone.”

“That’s all right.”

“So, uh, we need to talk.”

“Are you firing me?” she asked.

“What? No, of course not,” he answered, “You’re a great employee. But, um…You know how Ron is, like, gay?”

**Great wording.**

“Yeah.”

“Well, we have that in common. Sort of.”

“You didn’t bring me here to say you like men,” she figured.

“No,” George confirmed, “It’s…WHO I like. It’s…it’s…”

“Who is it?” she asked, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Draco,” he answered silently.

She blinked in surprise, “Draco.”

“I know it’s horrible,” George said, “And wrong, and…But I don’t know how it happened.”

“When did it start?”

Why wasn’t she disgusted with him?

“When I saw him at Grimwald Place. He was just so…broken, and scared. Then, he was in the hospital, he was so sick, and…I was worried…”

“Nightingale Syndrome.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s a muggle term,” Hermione explained, “It’s a term for when nurses fall in love with their patients. You helped take care of him, so it makes sense.”

“Then, it’s just a crush?”

“In a sense,” she answered, “Did Fred know that you were…”

“I think he suspected,” George answered, “Hell, I wasn’t sure half the time. My attraction didn’t start early, like Ron’s.”

“It happens.”

“That…isn’t the only problem,” he said, “There’s…another reason I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“I…like someone else. A girl…woman. I don’t know how long I’ve felt like this, but…”

“Spit it out, George.”

“Hermione, would…you go on a date with me?”

 **Now you’ve done it, you idiot!** His face went bright red.

“That sounds nice,” she answered.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just leave you al- Did you say yes?”

“I did,” she took his hand gently.

“Right,” he said, “Didn’t think I’d get this far. Uh, do you have a time in mind? A place?”

“Sunday, the eighth,” she said, “The three broomsticks? Three o clock?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s great.”

“I’ll see you then, George.”

…

November the 2nd. Monday. Exactly six months since the war ended. George should be at the Burrow, yet he stayed at the shop. The door of the room he’d been avoiding seemed to somehow glare at him.

“Why?” he asked, “Why’d it have to be him?”

The shards of glass from the mirror still lie on the floor in his room. It could have been him who was hit, and Fred who got away with a missing ear.

“Do it, you coward.”

George turned around, unable to comprehend the figure that stood before him.

“Fred,” George squeaked, “You’re…”

“Do it,” there was hatred on the twin’s face.

George reached out to touch Fred, but Fred backed away in disgust.

“Pick up the glass,” Fred said, “The big piece. It’s sharp.”

George turned to pick up a large piece of glass.

“What are you waiting for? Do it.”

His mother and father would be devastated, along with his siblings.

“I can’t.”

“How could you let a death eater into our house,” Fred demanded.

“I’m sorry.”

“You disgust me. I hate you.”

George went pale. “No. Not you, please.”

“Do it, George,” Fred snarled.

“Stop,” George closed his eyes and tried to stop his crying, “You’re not real. Stop!”

“It should have been you.”

“No.”

“They’ll forget about you,” Fred said, “Just like they forgot about me.”

“We haven’t forgotten you.”

George could feel Fred’s face inches away from him.

“I’m in your head, George,” Fred whispered, “You’ve moved on.”

“No. Leave me alone!”

“You know how to make me go away.”

George pressed the sharp end of the glass against his forearm.

“I’m sorry, Fred.”

…

“C’mon, wake up…”

George was in some form of half-consciousness, like he was bobbing up and down in a frozen lake. So cold…

“Please,” it was Ron, “I can’t…I can’t lose you too.”

He felt his hair being stroked gently.

“George,” Bill now spoke, “Get him a blanket, he’s freezing.”

“He’s breathing,” Ron spoke.

“How?”

“Don’t question it, Percy,” Bill replied.

George felt a thin layer of warmth cover him, and a hand grab his own. Big hand…strong handshake…Bill’s hand. **No, don’t let go, please.**

“I’m right here,” Bill spoke, “You’re gonna be okay, but you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Blood. Oh, right. Fred. His own twin despised him.

“Fred,” his voice squeaked, barely a whisper.

“I know,” Bill sounded relieved to hear a voice, “What did you do, George?”

“Fred,” he whispered again, his head and body aching with exhaustion, “Told me…to…”

“He told you to do this?” Bill sounded confused.

“Hates…me…”

“Fred could never hate you.”

“Arm…hurts…”

“Stop talking, okay?” Bill said kindly, “Try to rest.”

…

“Mrs. Weasley, I’m so sorry,” Hermione pleaded, “I thought…When I saw him the other day, he was so happy.”

George opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed.

“It’s all right, dear,” Molly spoke, “You couldn’t have known.”

“Mum?” George squeaked.

Molly ran to George’s side.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” he said.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Molly said.

George explained what he’d seen, how the ghost of his twin hated him.

“Fred loved you,” his mother spoke, “You were his best friend.”

“He looked so angry,” George said.

“That wasn’t a ghost,” Hermione said, “They don’t change personality after death.”

“So I AM going mad,” George explained what happened with the mirror.

“Not mad,” Molly said, “Grieving.”

“I saw him, Mum. He was right, it should’ve been…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Hermione interrupted, “Fred would feel the exact same if it were you.”

He smiled at her, “Are we still on for the 3 Broomsticks?”

She blushed lightly, “Yes. But that’s not the point.”

“Where’s Bill? And Percy, and Ron?”

“Home. Hopefully sleeping. They’ve been up all night, worrying about you.”

“Oh,” George moped, “How long have I been here?”

“Overnight,” Molly said, “Ron had the idea to…visit you. Bill and Percy joined and…Oh, you were so pale…”

“I…I wanna go home…”

“You will.”

…

George was released after another day at the hospital. At the Burrow, he felt the eyes on him, on his bandaged arm.

“Ron,” he called.

“’Ey, George.”

“How did you know that I was…” George stopped.

“Just had a feeling,” Ron shrugged, “Like an urgent need to visit you. and Bill and Percy were in the room and wanted to come, so…”

George patted the seat next to him on the couch, which prompted Ron to sit.

“You found me?”

“Yeah,” Ron started, “You were about to cut the other arm, but…you couldn’t. And then, you fell down, crying, saying you were sorry. All I could do was…hold you, then I called for Bill and Percy, and…Bill sealed the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but…You were so pale, your heartbeat was so weak.”

“I heard you,” George said, “Pleading for me to be okay.”

“Yeah,” Ron threw his arm around his older brother.

“You’re a great brother, Ronnie.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ron joked.

“Ronald,” George teased.

“I want to show you something.”

…

Ron searched his sock drawer and pulled out a small box. Inside was a small ring.

“I swore to myself that if we made it…if HE made it, through the battle, I would ask Harry to marry me,” he spoke, “But I don’t have the guts.”

The younger brother put the ring back in the drawer.

“He’ll say yes,” George said, “I’m sure of it.”


	4. Child

Why did it take six months to hit him? how could he just be okay without Fred for too long? Is he really so heartless?

“Georgie,” It was the name his older brother called him as a kid. That’s what he is to them now. A kid.

“Perce,” was all George whimpered.

He’d suffered another bout of wretched sobbing in his bed and didn’t want them to know.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

Percy looked disappointed but didn’t argue.

“How’s your arm? Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“It could get infected.”

All his older brothers had some form of medical training. Charlie had been given the most, however, with his job. George held out his bandaged arm to be examined.

“Try not to move your arm, all right?” Percy said.

George nodded. Percy slowly removed the bandage wrapped around his wound, and George winced when air hit the cut.

“You need new bandages,” Percy said, “And something to prevent infection. Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“I’ll be right back. Don’t touch your arm.”

George nodded. He hadn’t got to see his wound yet, just felt the dull ache in his arm. A long red scab trailed down his forearm. Just looking at him made him nauseas. Percy told him not to touch it, but he couldn’t help it. Percy ran into the room, vials in one hand and wand in the other.

“I told you not to touch it,” Percy ran into the room, vials in one hand and wand in the other.

“It…it’s bleeding,” George panicked.

“Only a bit,” Percy resealed the wound and vanished the blood with his wand, “Here.”

“That’s MY stuff,” George noticed the labels.

Percy applied the disinfectant cream to the sore.

“Yeah. You’re great with ingredients, George.”

“F…Fred made that one.”

“He made the pain cream, too?”

“No. That was me.”

Percy added some pain-relieving cream to George’s arm, then grabbed fresh bandages out of his pocket.

“You and Fred had the right idea,” Percy chuckled as he finished reapplying bandages.

“Yeah?”

“Starting a business from scratch,” the older brother continued, “And you didn’t have to abandon everyone to do it.”

“Perce…”

“I was an idiot.”

“You were the best student in the family.”

“Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure it does.”

“I’ll see you later, Georgie.”

…

Fred. The look his twin had given him stayed embedded in his mind. In his dreams. Nightmares, more like.

“Ron is replacing me,” Fred taunted, “Your new favorite brother.”

“No. Fred, I…”

“You’ve moved on,” Fred said again, “Didn’t take you long.”

“Fred, please…”

…

It seemed like a different person woke him up every time. Couldn’t he get a moment’s rest without a nightmare, without his twin being angry at him? This time, Harry was the one to wake him up. Must’ve been visiting Ron. George smiled when he remembered what Ron told him the other day.

“Morning, Harry.”

“Molly says you haven’t eaten in two days,” Harry said.

“Haven’t left my bed either,” George snapped, “She tell you that, too?”

“I didn’t come to fight,” Harry said, “Or to force you to eat. But I’ll bring you something, if you want it.”

It felt wrong to eat now, but his stomach betrayed him.

“I’ll get it,” George said. He didn’t need a damn babysitter.

He passed Harry and went slowly downstairs to the kitchen.

“Mum?”

“George, dear, would you like something to eat?”

“I’m gonna make toast,” he said.

“Of course, dear,” she smiled sadly as she passed him, “There’s apple cider if you want any.”

George nodded as he whipped up some toast and applied jam. It tasted awful, felt awful to eat, but he knew it was in his head, and his body craved food. He poured a glass of cider, the kind Molly made herself, and downed it greedily.

“Mum, what’s today’s date?” he shouted.

“November eighth,” she answered.

“Hermione,” he blurted, “Our date! Mum, I have to go!”

“George…”

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“At least put on a nice outfit,” Molly sighed, “And brush your hair.”

…

After nearly an hour waiting for Hermione, George was about to leave the Three Broomsticks. **Of course she stood you up. Of course she doesn’t REALLY want to date you.**

“George,” a feminine voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hermione,” he spoke, surprised.

Her hair had a slight curl, and her robes sported Gryffindor colors. She ran to where he was sitting.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she pleaded, “I thought you were…at home.”

He shrugged, “Do you want some butterbeer? Or something to eat?”

“Maybe later,” she answered, “I wanted to speak with you. Just…talk.”

“Okay.”

“How long have you…felt like this?” she asked.

He thought for a moment. How long HAD he liked her?

“I guess…somewhere around my sixth or seventh year,” he laughed, “Funny. I thought you were with Ron at first. Then, that Vlad guy.”

“Were you jealous?” she joked.

“I dunno,” he said, “You were pretty young.”

“I’m two years younger than you.”

“Yeah. Seems like nothing now. Two years.”

**Fred was alive two years ago.**

“What about you. I mean, if you ARE…”

“Yeah,” she said, “Yes. I think so. I only started really thinking about it when you asked me. You were always so nice to me.”

“Did you ever like Ron?” he wondered.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I saw that he liked Harry, and he only loved me as a friend, so I left it alone, you know?”

George nodded, then gently took her hand.

“I won’t rush you,” he said, “Into anything. I promise.”

“Didn’t think you would,” she smiled.

She stood up, leaned over the table, and kissed him on the cheek.

…

George could feel their eyes on him again. As November went on, the weather got colder, and George wasn’t getting any better. The ghost of Fred still haunted his dreams, to let him know that HE should have died instead. And worse, George believed it.

“George,” his mother spoke.

The clock. He was facing the clock but couldn’t look at it.

“Stop,” he absentmindedly stirred the food on his plate, “Staring at me. All of you.”

Molly, Arthur, Charlie, Percy, Ron and Ginny surrounded him at the dinner table.

“You act like I’m going to snap at any second,” George continued, “Like I’m a damn child!”

“We only want you to be better,” Ginny said.

“Better?” George demanded, “How am I supposed to get ‘better’? My brother is dead! My best friend is gone! And all you see when you look at me is him!”

“That’s not true,” his father said.

George stood up. “I can’t live without him,” he said, “I don’t DESERVE to live without him!”

They were speechless.

“I’m sorry,” George said, then paused, “You’ll all be better off without me.”


	5. In Spirit

George shivered from the cold air as he watched the ocean below, the sun setting in the sky. He’d ignored his family’s pleas as he’d left the Burrow and apparated inside Bill’s cottage, then ran out to the cliff.

“George,” Bill called, “Don’t do this.”

George turned to face his brother, who ran outside after George.

“Go back inside, Bill,” George said.

“I can’t do that.”

George scoffed.

“Fred would want you alive,” Bill said.

“How do you know what he would want?” George yelled, “You’re not the one whose dreams he’s been haunting!”

George stepped back until he felt his foot directly on the edge.

“He hates me,” George remembered.

“No.”

“You’ll move on,” the younger brother said, “But I can’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Bill pleaded, “Not if you don’t give it a chance.”

George took a deep breath. For a moment, he considered this.

“Goodbye, Bill,” George leaned back, ready to fall to the ocean below.

“No!” Bill yelled.

…

Eyes closed, George felt the frozen air on his body. So damn cold. Soon, he would plunge into the ocean below and drown. Or, perhaps, he would hit the cliff rocks. The fall began to feel like an eternity. Maybe, he thought, he’d already died.

“Open your eyes,” someone spoke, a kind voice.

George opened his eyes. He wasn’t falling anymore, his body hovered upright in the air.

“Hello, George,” Fred appeared before him, except he now held a loving grin and kind eyes.

“Fred,” George squeaked.

“So…” Fred spoke, “Draco, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” George pleaded, “I shouldn’t have let him into our…”

“Nonsense,” Fred interrupted, “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“You mean…” George started, “You knew?”

“Yeah.”

“Please don’t hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?” Fred asked.

“In my dreams, you told me that…I should have died. That you hated me.”

“Ah. That would be your guilt and grief talking.”

“Guilt?”

“Do you honestly believe that I would come back from the dead just to tell you I hated you.”

“I…”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve pierced the veil,” Fred explained.

“The mirror,” George realized.

“Sorry for scaring you,” Fred smirked, “You probably didn’t notice your reflection had two ears.”

“No. Why did my nose bleed?”

“Sudden temperature change?” Fred guessed, “Oh, look. Bill’s here.”

Bill stared down at them in surprised horror as Fred waved.

“He can see you?”

“Of course he can,” Fred said, “I’m a ghost.”

“But, how? How are you here?”

“We’re twins,” Fred explained, “Two parts of the same cell, split in two. Do you know what that means?”

“No, not really.”

“As long as one of us is alive, the other soul won’t move along.”

“Another reason for me to…”

“No!” Fred shouted, “That was bad wording. I just meant that I can stick around, when most spirits just move on to…wherever.”

“So, you’re sticking around?” George wondered.

“No…Well, it takes a lot of…let’s call it energy…to physically manifest again. Last time…”

“You called me a coward,” George interrupted.

“What?”

**That wasn’t him. That was in your head.**

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“I couldn’t stop you from cutting the first arm,” Fred said, “Not fully. For that, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.”

“So I went and put the idea to visit you into our brothers’ head,” Fred continued.

“After you died, I just…moved on. Like nothing happened.”

“No you didn’t,” Fred corrected, “You were just in denial. But at least you’re getting on with our brothers better.”

“They’re not replacing you,” George defended.

“Never said they were,” Fred smiled, then flickered slightly, “I have to go.”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving,” Fred assured him, “Not really. I’ll always be here, in spirit.”

“Did…did you…just make a joke?” George snickered, “You’re dead and you’re cracking jokes?”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Fred laughed, and George laughed with him.

“I miss you, Fred. I miss your smile, your laugh. I miss…THIS.”

“So do I,” Fred stated, “Listen, I have the energy to set you down, carefully, on the cliffside, okay?”

“Yeah. I love you, Fred. Have I ever told you that?”

“You never needed to,” Fred shrugged, “But, for the record, I love you, too. Ready?”

“I think so.”

“See? That’s the spirit!” Fred joked again as he pulled George toward where Bill stood, “I’ve got a whole bunch of these lined up.”

“Fred,” Bill spoke when George was set on the cliffside.

“’Ello, Bill,” Fred smiled, “It’s time for me to go.”

Before Bill could respond, Fred had faded away.

“George…” Bill stared in disbelief.

George hadn’t realized how cold he’d become, how his skin turned bright pink. Bill kneeled next to him.

“He’s not angry,” George stated.

Bill simply placed his hand against George’s shoulder.

“Could I come inside?” the younger brother asked.

“’Course,” Bill helped him up, “Come on.”

…

“Don’t tell them I’m here,” George said.

“They’re worried about you. Probably terrified.” Bill said.

“Let them worry.”

“That’s cruel, George.”

“I don’t care!” George said, “They think I’m a child, and I’m not going back!”

“You don’t have to,” Bill said, “You’re welcome to stay here at the cottage. Just let me tell them, at least.”

“Fine, but I’m not talking to them.”

“George, they think they lost you. I thought I lost you!”

“Bring them here.”

…

Molly hugged George when she got to the cottage, and the twin backed off, wanting to be left alone.

“Mum, I told you he’s upset with you,” Bill said.

“Who cares that he’s upset?” Ginny snapped, “He could have died!”

“Do you think I’m unaware,” Bill asked, “I wasn’t the one able to save him. I told you that.”

“Fred is back?” Ron asked.

“No,” George said, “He’ll never be back. He’s gone.”

**Gone. he had to accept it, eventually.**

“I can’t keep relying on his ghost to save me,” George continued, “Fred will always be with me, with US, but…”

“Please come home with us, George,” Arthur pleaded.

“No!” George said, “Bill and Fleur don’t treat me like an unstable child!”

**But he IS an unstable child. No, just a hurt, grieving adult.**

“Let him stay, Mum,” Charlie interjected, “He’s right, we have been coddling him.”

Molly glared at Charlie.

“I know you just wanted him to be safe,” Charlie continued, “We all did, but…we DID treat him like a child.”

“George, I didn’t realize…” Molly began, “I’m sorry, dear.”

“It’s okay,” George said, “But I’m still staying with Bill. And I’m going back to my shop…when I’m ready.”

His mother smiled. **When would he be ready? When would he be okay again?**

“I love you guys,” George continued, “I just…need a break, someone who won’t fuss over me all hours of the day.”

When would he be okay? He didn’t know. There was no requirement, no time frame for his healing. He’d been given a second, a third chance, by the twin who wouldn’t let him die, the twin he thought he couldn’t live without. He would never be the same, but at least Fred was there for him, in spirit.


End file.
